


The stars are the exception

by LessonsFromMoths



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up Together, Love Confession, M/M, Moon, Pining Tsukishima Kei, Stars, Studying, Through the Years, Tsukki loves Tadashi, Videogames, anxiety attack, but not a lot just a lil, mentions of suicidal thoughts - not from a main character and super duper brief!, soggy french fries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths
Summary: Obviously Kei fell in love with Yamaguchi. How could he not?He doesn’t think he’ll forget the stars ever again.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 66
Kudos: 449





	The stars are the exception

**Author's Note:**

> Is the moon and stars trope overplayed? Yes. Do I still love it with all of my heart? Also yes.  
> A lot of this fic occurs in Tsukishima’s head because I’ve always thought that one of the reasons he was so quiet was because he was overthinking. 
> 
> For those still waiting on my Daisuga FMA AU: it is coming! I promise!! 
> 
> un-beta'd, please be kind!
> 
> ..

Kei had always spent so much time looking at the moon that he never noticed the stars. He didn’t really have a reason to - the moon was the true lead of the sky, the spectacle that drew everyone’s eye and changed as the days did. It was easy to forget the stars, in that way. 

“Pathetic.” Kei narrows his eyes at the boys who were teasing the weak-looking kid on the ground. Their own eyes widen at the statement. But it’s true. If you got your kicks out of terrorizing someone who was obviously much weaker than yourself, you were pathetic. At least have the guts to pick on someone who stood a chance. 

His eyes barely sweep over the kid on the ground. His statement had been aimed at him, too. He’s pathetic for letting them make fun of him. For giving in, for not fighting back. If you couldn’t stand up for yourself, you were pathetic. At least have enough self-respect to not curl up in a ball and admit defeat as they kicked you while you were already down. 

Kei grips the straps of his backpack and keeps walking, losing interest in the scene as the other boys scatter. The boy on the ground - someone Kei vaguely recognized from his volleyball lessons - is wiping away tears and dirt as he catches his breath. Kei watches out of the corner of his eye as the kid crawls over to his bookbag and slowly stands on unsteady, knobby knees. He’ll be fine. 

Kei continues walking, noticing that the kid trails him home a few yards behind him. When he turns into his driveway he carefully watches as the kid keeps going, his house somewhere further down the road. He’d get home fine and his mom would patch him up, and that would be that. Kei would maybe see him at volleyball. And the weak kid would probably get beat up again. And they would never speak another word to each other. 

.*.

Kei is wrong. The kid starts following him like he’s his shadow. Everywhere Kei goes, the kid goes, too. He trails Kei to the drinking fountain during lessons, he shadows him to the car port where they wait for their parents to pick them up, and he even pursues him on the walk to and from school. Like a faithful dog, the kid won’t leave him alone. 

“Why are you following me?” Kei turns suddenly a few weeks later, making the other kid freeze in his shoes. He had been following Kei on their way home again, and seems startled that he had talked to him. “Well?” Kei demands.

“I-I want to be c-cool l-like you!” The kid says, blushing furiously and avoiding eye contact. “Then m-maybe they w-won’t pick on me any-anymore.” He’s not stuttering like a real stutter, it’s more like he regrets every word as it leaves his mouth but still manages to power through his own uneasiness. 

Kei stares at him for a moment before turning back around and continuing his trek home. “Well you aren’t going to learn anything by walking behind me. Then you can’t see what I see,” Kei says. He can’t explain the feeling that settles in his stomach when he hears the other kid’s sharp gasp before his footsteps quicken and he’s at Kei’s side, breathing a little harder with the effort from catching up. He doesn’t mind having the kid there. His walks have been a little less lonely ever since he had saved the kid, anyway. Maybe the company will be nice. 

.*.

“Tsukki!” Kei whips his head towards the voice. His new moniker is courtesy of the strange kid - Yamaguchi Tadashi. He would correct him like he did everyone else whenever they called him by another name _(“It’s Tsukishima, thanks.”)_ but finds that he doesn’t really mind much. Tsukishima is kind of a mouthful anyways, and when the other kid had tried calling him Kei-kun, Kei had shut that down pretty quickly. Yamaguchi is beckoning him from the pillow fort they constructed in the other boy’s living room using couch cushions, guest futons, and blankets. Kei crawls into the fort to join Yamaguchi, brandishing the package of licorice that he had left their shelter to obtain from his overnight bag. 

“Yes! Red licorice is the best!” Yamaguchi waits patiently for Kei to tear into the package before grabbing some candy for himself. He bites into it immediately, unlike Kei who likes to suck on the licorice sticks until his tongue turns pink. He can feel Yamagichi wiggling beside him as he gets comfortable under the blanket, lying on his stomach with his head propped in his hands. He grabs the remote to get the movie started as Kei watches him with careful eyes.

Yamaguchi is a little odd. After being told that he could walk beside Kei that one time, he hasn’t stopped. Wherever Kei goes, so does the messy-haired kid. He laughs when Kei says something off-putting, invites him over for sleepovers, and will share the strawberries his mom packs for him after volleyball lessons without Kei asking. Kei is still trying to figure him out. What does he gain from this? Sure, Yamaguchi might not have the most friends, but if he tried he could probably scrounge up a few among the other antisocial and shyer kids. Kei is also having a hard time trying to imagine the other kids not wanting to be friends with Yamaguchi. Objectively, he’s a pretty good friend so far - he’s very suggestible, is always willing to share his snacks, doesn’t care if Kei uses big words that he doesn’t understand, and isn’t too annoying. 

Exhibit A: right now. They’re sitting in a fort that owes its existence to Yamaguchi (Kei had started to build it differently but then Yamaguchi got a weird glimmer in his eye and suddenly they had a fully erect, stable pillow fort). He had also let Kei pick the movie, something his other friends were hesitant to do because Kei’s movies were “weird.” Yamaguchi wasn’t picky when it came to movie snacks, didn’t complain when Kei asked him to move so that he could sit on the left, and he didn’t care if they sat in silence. 

“Have you really never seen this?” Kei looks to Yamaguchi. 

He shakes his head. “Nah, we don’t watch foreign movies much.” Kei smiles a little at that - it would surely change if the messy-haired kid insisted on being his friend. He settles back, legs crossed and posture a little hunched, as he crams his soggy licorice stick into his mouth and grabs another to suck on. The theme song for “Jurassic Park” starts playing from the television.

By the end of the movie, Yamaguchi is looking a little pale. He had migrated from his spot on his stomach to a sitting position, leaning on Kei and hiding his eyes behind his blanket whenever the fate of the main characters gets a little dicey. “You’re missing something important,” Kei nudges him whenever the scary part is over, and he’ll emerge from his blanket to watch with wide eyes. He yelps at the electrocution, hides when the man gets eaten by the t-rex, and clings to Kei’s arm as the velociraptors try to sniff out the kids. 

“That was kind of scary,” Yamaguchi says when Kei asks him what he thought. “But now that I know how it ends, we’ll have to watch it again so I can see the parts I missed!” Kei briefly marvels at the fact that this is the kid that chose him to be his friend, but doesn’t dare question his good fortune. He’s been quickly running out of people to watch movies with, with his other friends not liking the movies he picks and Akiteru busy with his new spot on the high school volleyball team. Maybe this friendship will end up working out. 

.*.

Something Kei learns is that Yamaguchi is, like, _insanely_ good at video games. It doesn’t matter what it is - Naruto Battle, Labyrinth, Mario - he will absolutely, mercilessly, kick your ass if you have the opposing controller. Kei figures it’s from years of loneliness. Kei filled his own loneliness with facts and definitions and books and other things that made him feel superior - Yamaguchi filled his with video games. It takes two whole years of tentative friendship for Kei to learn this - Yamaguchi, bashful about his own abilities, always shied away from videogames and Kei didn’t mind, not being much of a gamer himself. 

But they’re twelve and running out of things to do, so when Yamaguchi had asked him if he wanted to play something, he had said yes. Big mistake. 

“Ready to give up yet?” The messy-haired boy smirks, his fingers flying across the controller. Kei scoffs. 

“You wish,” he spits back, leaning in the direction he wants his character to move. “C’mon, c’mon! No!” He watches his character fly off the edge of the map dejectedly. 

“Ha!” Kei looks over at his friend, whose tiny animated character just crossed the finish line. He likes it when Tadashi gets like this, all cocky and self-assured. He isn’t like this at all normally and it makes Kei feel special that he’s one of the few who has ever seen him like this. His smile is crooked, surely a side effect of years of shyness. “Can we switch games?” The change in Tadashi’s demeanor is so sudden Kei almost gets whiplash. 

He shrugs. “Sure.” He watches as his friend drags out a Gamecube and its controllers. He sits back beside Kei as they silently wait for it to power on. An unfamiliar tune starts up on the Gamecube, but when Kei turns to Tadashi he sees that the other boy has his eyes on the TV, a small, private smile on his face as his entire expression lights up at the sound of the game. Kei is completely enthralled - the freckles on Tadashi’s face dance as merrily as the gleam in his eye does whenever he gives that secret smile of complete satisfaction. Kei wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he likes watching Tadashi’s freckles skip across his cheeks. 

He realizes he’s been staring too long. Friends don’t stare at other friend’s freckles. There isn’t a specific rule, but Kei feels so guilty that there might as well be. He quickly looks back at the TV, where the word “Gauntlet” is displayed across the screen. “I’ve never heard of this game,” he says. “It looks old.” 

“This is the 1985 version,” Tadashi says reverently. “My dad gave it to me.” 

“I don’t know how to play,” Kei says helplessly as he watches Yamaguchi enter the game and hit “2 Players.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. It’s just point and shoot. And we’ll be on the same team.” Yamaguchi navigates the home screen. “Here, you’ll want to pick your character. I usually pick the Valkyrie,” he flips through the characters until he settles on a blue one. 

“What’s the difference?” Kei asks.

“Well, the warrior is good at combat, the wizard has strong magic, the valkyrie has good defense, and the elf is fastest.” 

Kei scrolls through the characters before settling on the yellow wizard. “Alright, so,” Tadashi leans close until his shoulder is right up against Kei’s -- he’s never been good with personal space, always brushing shoulders and grabbing hands, so unlike Kei’s family -- “you press this button for fire, or a short-range attack,” he taps one of the buttons. “And then you press this one for a magic attack. Other than that, you just use this joystick to move around.” 

“What’s the goal?” 

“We have to unlock the doors and defeat the enemies to get out of the gauntlet,” Tadashi says. “So we’ll be trying to get keys. Health runs out quick so be sure to eat food when you see it. Got it?” His eyes are dark and serious, but there’s a mirth that lingers that indicates how much he loves this game. Kei is glad that he’s sharing it with him. 

“Got it.” 

“Let’s kill some monsters!” 

.*.

Kei wakes up to a tapping at his window. He blinks a few times, turning over in bed and hoping it stops. 

It doesn't. The tapping increases in frequency, and Kei groans as he rips himself from his bed. He doesn't have time to remember every single awful American horror film he’s ever seen before he’s ripping back the curtain, eyes widening when he sees Yamaguchi’s face staring back at him. 

He opens the window, one of the ones that you lift to open instead of crank, and presses his hand to the screen. “What are you doing here?” He whispers. Yamaguchi presses his hand against Kei’s through the screen. Now that he’s closer, Kei can see that his friend is clearly distressed. 

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he whines, his voice frail and unbearably soft - so unlike its usual excited tone. “I just...can we not talk about it?” 

Kei nods, worried. He’s never seen Tadashi like this before. So upset over nothing. In the three years since Kei saved him from those bullies after school, never has Tadashi looked so close to tears. It frightens him to think of what might have prompted him to show up at Kei’s house in the middle of the night. “Wait here,” Kei says, as if Tadashi has a choice. He hurries from his room, slipping on his shoes and opening the front door as quietly as he can. Then he sneaks around to the side of the house where Tadashi is standing. Kei stands next to him, waiting. He’s never been incredibly patient, but he’s found that he can wait for Tadashi. The other boy stares back before slowly lowering himself to the ground. Kei takes it as his cue to follow.

It’s always been a bit of a drag to live out in the country: the nearest store is a long car ride or even longer bike ride away, it’s easy to get bored, and the people are rather small-minded. But one thing that Kei loves is how bright the moon is on clear nights like tonight. It’s warm but not too warm, Kei is comfortable in his long sleep pants and short-sleeved shirt. The crickets are humming with song. The mosquitos haven’t come back from their winter death yet, and Kei revels in the feeling of a warm night with no pesky insects.

He’s lying down on the prickly grass, face to the sky and his head and Tadashi’s so close that the other boy’s hair is tickling his face. He can hear Tadashi’s hitching breaths. He thinks the boy is trying not to cry. Kei has never been good at this kind of thing. His parents don’t really talk about emotions - the closest thing he gets to talking about his feelings is when his brother rants to him and then lets him rant back. And it’s not like they rant about things that matter, they just go on about things that annoyed them about the most recent Spiderman or a particularly difficult classmate. Tadashi’s thing matters, and Kei isn’t sure how to let him know that he’s here for him. 

Tadashi was there for him when he had the biggest disappointment of his life. When he found out that despite all of his hard work Akiteru barely left the bench, Kei’s world had crumpled around him. It felt like every smile was a lie. He didn’t let his parents touch him, he didn’t let Akiteru talk to him, and he even stopped going to volleyball for a few weeks. It was Tadashi who had been there. Who had smiled at him. Who had said that he missed him at practice. So Kei went back to volleyball, so Tadashi wouldn’t be alone. He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten the chance to thank his friend for that. 

“The stars look beautiful, don’t they?” Tadashi finally says, his voice soft and broken. Kei doesn’t know. He’s never really noticed them before. He’s more fascinated by the moon and the way it changes, not the stars that have been the same since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. Let someone else worry about them. God knows they’ve had plenty of time.

“Can you imagine being a star?” Tadashi continues, ignorant of Kei’s musings. “They’re so dazzling. They seem important, like they’re just waiting for someone to pluck them from the sky and tell them about their next mission to save the world.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My mom always says that the stars have seen everything. They know our dreams, our hopes, our pasts, and our futures. And if we wish upon one, the stars will judge us and grant the wish if they deem us worthy.”

“That sounds stupid,” Kei can’t stop himself from saying. “Stars are just hot balls of gas. Who are they to judge carbon beings?”

A small chuckle escapes from Tadashi’s lips, and it feels like a win. “You might be right.”

His voice breaks through the chirping of the crickets again a few minutes later. “Tsukki?” 

“Yeah?”

“Even if it’s stupid, will you wish on a star with me?” 

_Kei had always spent so much time looking at the moon that he never noticed the stars._

“Okay.” 

_He didn’t really have a reason to - the moon was the true lead of the sky, the spectacle that drew everyone’s eye and changed as the days did._

“What did you wish for?” Kei asks in the darkness of the night. 

_It was easy to forget the stars, in that way._

“For everything to go away,” Tadashi whispers, and Kei can feel the silent sobs wracking his body. Kei reaches his hand up over his head until it finds Tadashi’s. He awkwardly holds his friend’s hand, loath to let go in fear of losing him completely. 

He doesn’t think he’ll forget the stars ever again. 

.*.

“Don’t you think we’re a little old for this?” 

“Maybe. Doesn’t make it less fun, though!” Tadashi is grinning as he waves the mason jars in the air tantalizingly. “Come on, you know you wanna.” 

Kei rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll humor you.” He follows his friend to the Yamaguchi’s backyard, where dusk is just beginning to settle and the skies are lighting up with the glow of fireflies. 

They’re fourteen, almost fifteen, which means that they’ll be in high school soon. It’s kind of a scary thought, to be separated from Tadashi, but when Kei asked him where he was going to school and his friend had replied with, “Karasuno, why?” Kei had immediately asked his parents about it at dinner. 

“I want to go to Karasuno,” he says. 

“Just like Akiteru!” His mother fawns. His father just hums in approval. 

“That’s a good school,” he says. “Their college prep classes will be suitable for you.” And that was that. Kei and Tadashi will be going to high school together. And now he’s in Tadashi’s backyard, catching fireflies with him like they’re eleven again. 

“First one to twenty wins?” Tadashi asks, like he always does.

Like he always does, Kei rises to the challenge. “You’re on. Three, two, GO!” 

They treat the competition like their lives depend on it, with Tadashi going for his normal strategy of waving the jar around to scoop the unassuming bugs from the air while Kei sets his jar down in the yard and catches them one by one with his hands, cupping the fireflies gently and releasing them into the jar. It feels a little more tedious, now that they’re so much older, but it also takes more focus. Back when they were younger, they never worried about the fireflies escaping, but now it seems like every escaped bug is a loss. 

Kei remembers when they first caught fireflies in his own backyard before finding out that Yamagichi’s was better for it, how Tadashi had grinned and said, “Just like your name!” and had pointed out the thing about himself that Kei hated the most. Why his mother had picked kanji that could be read as Hotaru or Kei, he will never know. He had been teased when he was younger for his name - firefly - and maybe that was why he had said something when he saw Tadashi being so helplessly picked on all those years ago. But, in the most Tadashi-like fashion, he had ignored Kei’s scowl at the mention. “That’s so cool! I wish my name meant something as cool as yours!” And immediately, Kei had been shocked. But that was just like Tadashi. He pointed out every flaw, every single thing that Kei hated about himself, and told him how cool he thought it was. 

“Did you know that fireflies are symbols of love and war?” Tadashi mentions idly as they sit in the grass next to their full jars of flashing bugs. Tadashi had won, of course. 

“I’ve only heard about them in war,” Kei says honestly. 

“Yeah, and it’s pretty cool that they’re like the souls of fallen soldiers. But they’re also kinda the most romantic bug.” 

Kei smirks at his friend, elbowing him. “You gonna use that line on a girl someday?” He asks. 

Tadashi just grins at him lazily. “Think it’ll work?”

“Not if you talk about bugs and dead people,” he snickers, and Tadashi tackles him. 

“Not nice!” 

They roll in the grass in their small scuffle, neither one intending to win over the other, just fighting for the sake of fighting. Eventually they’re both sprawled on their backs, giggling and staring up at the fireflies floating around them. “They’re like stars,” Tadashi says softly. 

“A whole universe,” Kei looks to his left, where Tadashi’s jar of fireflies is sitting. 

“Do you think it’ll always be this way?” Tadashi asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Kei asks.

“Will we always be such good friends?” Tadashi’s voice is tentative but strong.

The thought of him and Tadashi being friends forever is so obvious. It’s an idea that comes as easy as breathing or blinking. “Of course,” Kei says, the “idiot” at the end implied. 

“Oh. Good.” And Kei can’t see Tadashi’s face from where they lay, but he’s sure that the other boy is smiling. 

.*.

“Hey, you’re doing great,” Kei says helplessly to his friend, who’s skipping practice to cry on the floor of the clubroom. Yamaguchi is having what one might call an “off day.” Kei can tell that he’s taking it personally. “It’s okay to not be good every day.” And really, they’re first-years. The Karasuno volleyball club didn’t need them to be perfect.

“But that’s i-it, i-isn’t it? I-I’m not good an-any day!” Tadashi is working his way into a complete panic. 

Kei had known it wasn’t a good day when he had joined Tadashi on their walk to school. He wasn’t chattering like he usually did, filling Kei in on the latest documentary he had watched or the homework assignment he had done or what trouble his older sister managed to get into this time. Tadashi has them sometimes - days where getting out of bed is the second most difficult thing right behind taking another step. And every time, Kei marvels at the fact that Tadashi just keeps on taking one more step. He thinks that the entire world underestimates Yamaguchi Tadashi, but if they could see him walking next to Kei despite the pain, they’d know how impressive he really is. 

To put it in simple terms, Tadashi is feeling a little more vulnerable than usual today. And when he had brought his bad day to practice, it had just bled into every ball he served into the net, every pass he botched, every hit he missed. And when their new coach - Coach Ukai - had called for a water break, Tadashi had disappeared. 

“I’ll find him,” Kei had volunteered. He knew there were only a few places Tadashi would have gone. He lucks out and gets it right on the first try.

Their bodies are pressed flush against each other, Tadashi’s head resting on his arms, which are holding his knees tightly to his chest, and Kei’s arms wrapped around his friend as much as they can without completely invading his privacy. Tadashi is someone who has always responded well to touch, especially if he isn’t feeling well. His body is still unbearably tight. Kei wishes with all of his heart that he could do something to make his friend feel better. But he isn’t good at this kind of thing.

“You’re not bad every day,” Kei says lamely. He doesn’t know how to comfort Tadashi, even after all these years. He isn’t good with words, never has been, and his comforts sound hollow even to his own ears. “You’re an important part of the team.” That one may be a stretch. The first years haven’t even been on the team a month: he’s sure that Karasuno would be just fine without any of them: Kageyama’s arrogance, Hinata’s inexperience, Kei’s indifference, Yamaguchi’s insecurities. But Kei knows that with a few more months, Tadashi will be invaluable. They’ll come to rely on his smile and his steady nature. It only took him a few weeks to realize the same thing, and he was eleven at the time.

“S-soryy, Tsukki!” Tadashi chokes out. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kei says. He worries that his delivery is too monotonous, that Tadashi won’t believe him, that his insincere past actions will render the present ones null. 

“You’re missing practice,” Tadashi says, small, “because I’m crying.” 

Kei wants to tell him that he would miss practice forever, give up volleyball in a heartbeat, just to be here. But he doesn’t know how. So instead he starts rocking them back and forth, humming the [‘Gauntlet’ theme song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KvcIyfC81o) Sung slowly enough it sounds kind of classical, and Tadashi’s tears slow. Kei gets into the humming, releasing one of his arms from its death grip on his friend to mimic what he imagines the piano part to look like as he hums it desperately, gasping for air between complicated parts. 

Tadashi is giggling by the end of it, his tears drying over his freckles despite his red eyes. His nose is still pink when Kei finishes the four minute performance, accepting Tadashi’s zealous applause. He stands slowly, feeling his vertebrae slide into place as he rights himself. He holds out a hand to Tadashi. “Ready to improve our serves?” 

Tadashi lets himself be yanked up by Kei’s hand. He lets go immediately, but the warmth of Tadashi’s touch isn’t quick to leave - it never is. 

“Is Yamaguchi okay?” Hinata asks when they get back to the gym late, receiving a verbal reprimand from Ukai first, then Daichi, which Kei takes the brunt of on purpose. Tadashi’s eyes are still rimmed red, which makes Suga place a hand on Daichi’s arm halfway through his lecture (or god, at least Kei hopes it was halfway) to get him to let up. 

“Of course he is. What a stupid question,” Kei responds coldly. He betrays his own words when he can’t keep his eyes off of the messy-haired boy for the rest of practice, handing him volleyballs from the floor or shagging twice as fast so that Tadashi doesn’t have to bend down as much because Kei is _sure_ that his friend is just exhausted from earlier. But even though they haven’t been teammates long, everyone knows that Yamaguchi is Kei’s weak spot. His exception. And so they wisely say nothing. 

.*.

Yamaguchi has started getting into the habit of bringing his polaroid camera with him wherever he goes. Kei assumes it’s because his dad is a photographer, and it makes sense that Tadashi would want to document things much like his father. But honestly, it’s getting ridiculous. Tadashi will snap his picture in the middle of lunch, or curl his arm around the taller boy in the clubroom and take the quickest selfie known to man so that Kei won’t have time to protest or hide his face. He’ll sneak pictures when they study, when they go to nearby festivals, when they’re walking home from practice. 

Eventually, Kei gets too tired to object anymore. He refuses to smile for any of the pictures, but Tadashi has always been his weakness, ever since he saw the boy being hated on five years ago (have they really only been friends for five years? It feels like forever). So he lets him continue documenting. 

Unfortunately, like they always do these days, the rest of the team interferes. Nishinoya offers Yamaguchi money for more film if he’ll take a few pictures of him with Tanaka and Asahi. Kageyama makes an offhand comment about Yamaguchi being the team photographer. Daichi has to make a rule about when and where he can take the camera after it becomes a distraction at one too many practice matches. 

So, like Kei always knew it would be, it becomes a burden to Tadashi. The poor guy’s too nice to notice or care. He’s always loved documenting life, and so he always has his polaroid tucked in his backpack or sports bag. 

“Your serve is looking a lot better,” Kei says to him on the bus back from yet another practice match. They always sit together, without having to ask the other. Kei always gets the window seat so he doesn’t have to talk to the other team members. For some reason, Tadashi actually likes their team, so he does the talking for both of them. 

“You think so, Tsukki?” And Kei is glad he said something, because Tadashi’s smile is blinding. Kei nods, about to tell him which serves he was particularly impressed with and how his form is getting more refined when they’re rudely interrupted.

“Tsukishima is being nice!” Hinata hollers so the rest of the team can hear.

“What about it, dumbass?” Kageyama glares at him, mostly because Hinata just screamed in his ear from the seat in front of him. 

“He must be sick or something!” Hinata says, reaching towards Kei to do something completely stupid like put his hand on his forehead. 

Kei bats him away swiftly and firmly. “Shut up. I’m not sick.” 

“Was it to Yamaguchi? He says nice things to Yamaguchi sometimes,” Nishinoya says conversationally. Kei shoots him a glare. It’s nobody’s business who he’s nice to. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or ever, if it can be helped, but he thinks that might be asking too much. 

So Kei does what he does every time he’s sick of the world. He pulls his headphones from around his neck up to his ears, then presses a button on the side of them so that they start playing the playlist he has queued up on his phone. He can feel Tadashi continuing the conversation beside him, but he has faith that he won’t say anything too embarrassing. Tadashi knows that he can have a hard time connecting with other people, so he has a persona that he displays. Tadashi’s never minded how different Kei can be depending on the company. It’s one of the things Kei appreciates the most about him.

Eventually things quiet down. It’s been a long day and they’ve all expended a lot of energy. Tadashi can fall asleep anywhere, so it’s no surprise when he slumps against Kei’s shoulder. Kei can’t imagine it’s comfortable, but Tadashi never seems to mind. 

Unlike Tadashi, he’s less inclined to fall asleep wherever he sits, but the lull of the bus and the gentle music in his ears along with the pull of sleep is too hard to ignore, so he leans against the window, eyes sliding shut without too much resistance. 

He has no idea how long they’re out, but in the depths of sleep he can hear a familiar clicking sound. He blinks his eyes awake and turns to Tadashi, sliding his headphones off and ready to reprimand him for taking a picture while Kei was sleeping _(why!?),_ except Tadashi is still passed out (now drooling, like always) on Kei’s shoulder. He blinks in confusion until he turns his eyes to the direction of the sound of the polaroid developing in the seat in front of him.

Nishinoya sits there, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, as he waits for the picture to develop. Everyone else looks like they’re asleep, and Kei fixes a well-practiced glare of no mercy on the libero. He knows it’s terrifying - he’s seen it in the mirror. But Nishinoya looks unbothered, plucking the photo from the camera and holding it as he waits for it to develop. Without waking Tadashi, Kei leans forward the smallest bit and snatches both the photo and the camera from Nishinoya. 

“That’s Yamaguchi’s,” he says scathingly. 

“But you looked so cute! He’d be sad if he missed that picture,” Nishinoya says innocently, but his shit-eating grin suggests otherwise. 

“Tsukishima looking cute? Please tell me you got that on camera!” Tanaka’s voice rises up from one of the back seats. 

“Right here, Ryuu!” Nishinoya holds up his cell phone. Kei suddenly has a headache. He hates this team so much right now. 

But when he sits back and watches the photo develop slowly, something in his chest loosens. Tadashi is drooling on him, and he has his neck hanging awkwardly on the other boy so as to not disrupt him with his headphones. It is kind of a sweet picture. Objectively. Obviously, Tadashi will never see it. 

Even though Kei thinks all of these things, he still finds himself tucking both the camera and the picture into Tadashi’s volleyball bag, but not before taking a quick picture on his phone of the polaroid. For blackmail material. Obviously.

.*.

“Tsukki, stop fidgeting!” Tadashi scolds him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, biting his lip to stop the urge to bend his fingers.

“I’m serious Tsukki!” Tadashi laughs, but there’s a little frustration in his tone. Kei doesn’t bother apologizing this time, his friend knows he’s trying not to. It’s just hard when fidgeting is his nervous habit. Not that he’s particularly nervous or anything. Okay, maybe he’s a little nervous. But anyone would be if their best friend who is incredibly kind and attractive was sitting right across from them and cradling your hands in theirs as they gently took care of you. Jeesh, Kei really needs to get a grip. He’s supposed to be in pain, anyways. 

He had jammed or broken - at this point, it doesn’t even matter anymore - his left ring finger during the last game. Coach Ukai had taken one look at it and immediately demanded he ice it while someone else got tape. Somehow, and Kei literally could not tell you the progression of events that lead to this moment, Yamaguchi was the one everyone had decided would wrap Kei’s fingers. Maybe it’s because Kei is really only nice to Tadashi, but more likely it’s because Tadashi has a calming effect on his teammates (Kei especially, and the team damn well knows it). And even though he won’t admit it, Kei is kind of freaking out. His finger hurts like a bitch and they still need to play one more game today.

Tadashi is understanding, though. He’s not freaking out in the slightest, instead scolding Kei when he can’t sit still and gently squeezing his finger around the joints, asking, “Does this hurt?” every time so that he can pinpoint the areas that need the most support. He’s focusing on Kei’s hands as if nothing else in the world matters and it makes Kei’s mouth dry to see his focus. Tadashi looks beautiful in the low lighting of the locker room. 

He begins wrapping, taping his injured finger individually, then pressing his ring and pinky finger together and slowly wrapping them as a unit. Their knuckles keep brushing as Tadashi continues his wrapping, and Kei works furiously to keep his face neutral and his cheeks from turning pink. It doesn’t seem to work when Tadashi looks up at him worriedly.

“Is that too tight?” He breathes, voice soft but slightly panicked.

“No, not at all,” Kei replies. 

“I’m sorry, I know it must hurt,” Tadashi says as he cuts the athletic tape with the scissors from the first aid kit. “You’ll be able to put a proper splint on it after the game.” He lifts Kei’s hand and inspects it. 

“I’m also going to wrap your middle finger separately so you don’t strain it too much. Hopefully this’ll help it from getting hurt too and give you a bit more power.” Kei might, quite literally, spontaneously combust if Tadashi holds his hand for another minute more, but he patiently sits on the hard bench of the locker room, eyes focused on Tadashi’s freckles. They’re different at this proximity. Kei never realized that some of them overlap. 

“Done,” Tadashi says, unbearably soft. He looks up at Kei. “Good?” 

Kei swallows thickly, nodding. He reluctantly takes possession over his hand again and tries to bend his fingers, satisfied when he doesn’t succeed. “Perfect. Thank you, Yamaguchi.” 

His friend flushes at the praise. Kei is definitely losing his ability to breathe. So. This is what a crush feels like. It’s not as pathetic as he thought it would be. When he thinks about his crush on his best friend, he thinks of laughter and warm summer nights and a comforting presence hovering at his shoulder. He thinks of late-night text conversations and visits to the pet store to gawk at lizards and museum trips that happen outside of school because both Kei and Tadashi like to take their time and read all of the plaques. His crush doesn’t debilitate him, doesn’t leave him hopeless and pining. It just leaves him thinking about all of the things he loves about Tadashi. He doesn’t think he can be mad about that. 

One thing that he wonders is if he’s always been gay. But then he realizes that he doesn’t really find anyone except Tadashi attractive. He’s Tadashi-sexual. The thought makes him warm inside. Would Tadashi be pleased, too, if he found out that Kei has feelings for no one but him and never has? 

“We should go out and grab a snack before it's too late,” Tadashi says, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah. Our pinch server needs to keep his energy up,” Kei redirects the attention off of himself. It works like a charm, all of the lingering awkwardness vanishing. 

“Tsukki!” Tadashi grins as he bumps his shoulder against Kei’s. If it could be like this forever, Kei might not mind. 

.*.

“Fuck!” Kei’s outburst is quiet but magnified in the absolutely silent gym. It feels like everyone is holding their breath. 

“Tsukishima!” Daichi breaks the silence, and suddenly everyone is bursting into exclamations and running towards him, which is the last thing he wants.

“Get back, now,” Suga is saying gently, realizing Kei’s need for space. Kei wants to thank him, but there’s currently a trickle of blood making its way down his face that he’s more concerned with. 

“Are you okay?” Coach Ukai is kneeling next to him while Daichi faintly yells for Ennoshita to grab the first aid kit. 

“Fine,” Kei says. It’s true. He might have a bit of a headache, but he’ll be fine as long as someone can find his glasses for him. They were knocked off his face when Asahi’s spike had gone awry, smacking him straight in the face through the net when he jumped to block. 

Even when it doesn’t go over, their ace’s spikes are incredibly impressive. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Ace is saying, sounding close to tears. 

“It’s fine, really,” Kei sighs, not wanting to be the reason the third-year cried. He’s sure Hinata and Kageyama would find a way to blame him for the ace’s tears. Someone hands Takeda-sensei the first aid kit and he immediately starts tending to Kei’s face. 

“It looks like your glasses nicked you right on the bridge of your nose, but you should be fine. How’s your head?” He asks. 

“Only hurts a little, Takeda-sensei,” Kei murmurs. Everyone else calls the advisor Take-chan, but the sensei has always been kind to him and Kei has no qualms showing him the utmost respect. 

“Good. Can someone bring Tsukishima-kun his glasses, please?” Takeda-sensei looks up from where he’s pressing a small bit of gauze to the area of the bleeding. 

“Uh oh,” Hinata’s voice sounds faint, which is never a good sign. It usually means that the overzealous decoy is either about to puke or deliver bad news. Or both. “Um, Tsukishima? Your glasses are kind of broken.” And Kei really wants to die now, thank-you-very-much, will someone please put him out of his misery?

“What?” Kei asks, hoping Hinata’s wrong.

Yamaguchi materializes beside him, barely looking like more than a mirage of colors without his glasses. “The glass is broken and the frame is too twisted to wear,” his friend explains gently. 

“What?” Kei asks again, a little panic creeping into his voice. His glasses...without them, he’s almost legally blind. He can’t see anything. And he has an extra pair at home, but he still has to go through the entire school day. Without his glasses. Which he needs to see. Which are currently broken. Which --

“Kei,” Tadashi says quietly, but Kei can feel the curious gazes of their entire team at the sound of his name coming from Tadashi’s mouth. He quickly schools his expression. Weakness is not an option. “How about we go sit down on the bench?” He offers. Tadashi knows. He knows that Kei is thirty seconds from losing his cool because he hates not being in control, hates it when his helplessness is on display for all to see. Kei feels his face burning, he feels so weak and helpless and embarrassed for freaking out, but he nods and stands slowly, his headache increasing with altitude, as he allows Tadashi to hold his arm and lead him to the bench. 

Kei’s been wearing glasses since forever. He first got them back when he was seven, when his teacher had found that he couldn’t see the board when he was called on to read aloud. It had prompted a visit to the optometrist, who had immediately discovered that Kei was near-sighted. The problem has only magnified as he’s gotten older, his eyesight worsening with every year that goes by. For a while, his sight was deteriorating so quickly that they worried he might need corrective surgery, but it’s slowed down in more recent years. 

Without his glasses...Kei blinks warily at the world, a liquid blend of colors to his failing eyes. He can still feel Tadashi right next to him. This has happened once before: when they were in middle school, Kei’s glasses broke on the playground. He’d been a mess: scared that he couldn’t navigate the world alone, angry that another kid had stepped on them, worried about what his mom would say. And Tadashi had just grabbed his hand and promised to guide him through the rest of the day. And he had. He didn’t leave Kei’s side until he dropped him off at his house after school. 

Of course, Kei has grown up since then. He doesn’t cry when his glasses break. But he does feel incredibly helpless, and having Tadashi right next to him soothes his anxiety. 

Morning practice ends uneventfully despite its exciting middle, and Tadashi wordlessly grabs both his and Kei’s waters and gently takes his wrist to lead him to the club room. They don’t speak, but Tadashi opens his locker for him so that he can change into his school clothes. They change quickly and quietly compared to the rest of the team, which is boisterous and too busy teasing each other to get changed properly. It usually annoys the hell out of him, but their familiar banter just serves as a sort of comfort to Kei today. 

“You ready, Tsukki?” Tadashi asks him in the same soft voice he’s been using since his glasses broke. He’s being so gentle it makes Kei feel an overwhelming rush of affection. He carefully schools his face and nods. 

It goes like this for the rest of the day: Tadashi asking him if it’s okay, grabbing his wrist or elbow gently, and then leading him around. Tadashi takes notes for him from the desk to his left (thank fuck they’re in the same class), answers questions from the teacher, and leads him to the lunch room and back. 

He can’t participate in afternoon practice, but when Tadashi asks him if he called his parents to pick him up he just shakes his head. It feels wrong to leave Tadashi alone when he spent all day taking care of Kei. So Kei sits on the bench in his school uniform, watching blobs of color shift before his eyes. Coach Ukai is near him, as is Takeda-san, and they talk about the team to each other and yell suggestions and encouragement to the players as they practice. Kei never realized how much Ukai and Takeda talked to them from the sidelines until now. 

Shimizu-san sits next to him on the bench, a steady presence. He appreciates it, and even though he’ll never get around to telling her (his social anxiety is through the roof even thinking about it) he thinks she already knows. 

The walk back home from practice is more silent than usual. Kei wonders if it’s been just as exhausting for Tadashi as it has been for him. Tadashi’s hand has migrated to his wrist again, the silence being broken whenever he murmurs something about a step or bump in the road so that Kei doesn’t stumble. They reach his house after what feels like three hours, though it’s only twenty minutes. 

“Thank you,” Kei says quietly. “For today. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” 

He can’t tell, but he thinks Tadashi may be smiling. “Of course, Tsukki. You have an extra pair inside, right? Do you need help getting to them?” 

As much as he’d like to say yes, he knows his house like the back of his hand. Also, he thinks he’s been vulnerable enough today. His chest feels sore from how much he’s had to rely on Tadashi - how much the other boy had seen of him in the few short hours they’d been together. So he shakes his head, gets out another thanks, and goes inside as he watches the blob that’s Tadashi make its way further down the road. 

When he slips his backup glasses on his face he’s met with an overwhelming relief, but he can’t help but miss the feeling of Tadashi’s long fingers curling around his wrist. He sighs heavily. The small crush that reminded him of the things he loved about Tadashi has developed into something big and debilitating. He can barely think when their hands brush or when Tadashi laughs. Kei knew he was fucked before, but now? He is completely and utterly fucked, no further questions at this time. 

.*.

Kei is sitting on the floor in a locker room in Tokyo, alone. His mind is reeling from the events that have occurred in the past day: he still isn’t sure how to wrap his head around them. The only place to get even a semblance of privacy at one in the morning is the locker room, so he’d holed up in here in hopes that his thoughts will make sense enough that he can finally fall asleep. He’s always known that Tadashi had it in him, that he was stronger than he looked and cooler than he thought. But even Kei himself, Yamaguchi Tadashi’s number one fan, hadn’t anticipated the supernova that was an angry Tadashi. 

Tadashi had complimented him, telling him how he had always admired the way he did things, kept his cool, kept his head. How the messy-haired boy had been _jealous._ Of _him._ And honestly, that had been surprising. Tadashi was everything Kei was not: he was friendly where Kei was cold, easy-going where he was strict, spontaneous where Kei was hesitant. And even now, passionate where Kei was indifferent. How could someone so beautiful, so full of life, be jealous of someone like him? He was nothing compared to the shine of Tadashi. 

And then Tadashi had told him that lately he had been acting lame. Which, fair. He wasn’t surprised at being called out, he was just surprised that Tadashi had grown the balls to be the one to say it. He can’t remember a time when Tadashi had ever critiqued him or called him out on anything important. It makes him proud, in a way. He was proud to see Tadashi’s face screwed up in anger and frustration as he ranted about Hinata and Kei and Kei not caring enough. 

His blind faith in Kei has always been a given. Even when Tadashi was angry with him, he still called him a great player. Maybe that was what had spurred his honesty. 

_“Even if I work really hard and become the greatest player on Karasuno, what happens after that? Even if we somehow get to the national championships, what exists beyond that? There will always be better. And then better again. It’s endless. Even if you show results, you’ll_ never actually be number one!”

He remembers the way he had spit those words back in Tadashi’s face, projecting his own insecurities onto his friend. He regrets it. But instead of cowering, like Kei thought he might, Tadashi had surprised him again. He had gotten in his face, had yelled, had made himself heard over the roaring of Kei’s own insecurity and heartbeat. He had asked about the driving force. It was something he no longer understood. 

When he was a kid, Akiteru was his driving force. Seeing his older brother light up at the thought of volleyball. Wanting to hold a candle to Akiteru’s talent, to his passion. He wanted to make him proud. After being let down by the one person he never thought he would be, could be, let down by, everything seemed meaningless. There wasn’t a point. Even if you did work hard, all you were left with was nothing. A seat on the bench. So his question, despite its wrath, was honest. What was the driving force behind everyone, Tadashi included? 

_“What the hell else do you need besides your own pride!?”_

The words echoed in his head, even now. Tadashi had grabbed his shirt too roughly, had pulled his face into Kei’s to emphasize his point. They had stood there, locked in a state of astonishment, frustration, and anguish, waiting for the other to speak. Tadashi must have seen something in his eyes, because he had abruptly let go, stepping back and breathing hard from the exertion of the moment. 

Kei will never forget the astounded look on Tadashi’s face when he had smiled, his eyes meeting Tadashi’s wide ones. 

_“When the hell did you get so cool?”_

It’s true, and had been an honest question. Somewhere between that first day after school, endless movie nights, and the Tokyo training camp, Tadashi had learned his own worth. Had learned that his pride was something worth fighting for. Kei had never felt more proud of his best friend.

And then Tadashi had asked him if he was okay. After all of that, he was still worried about his friend. Kei couldn’t be in Tadashi’s presence longer than that. His friend’s words spurred a curiosity inside of him, and he had excused himself to find the irritating captains from Nekoma and Fukurodani. If Tadashi’s driving force was pride, was it the same for other high school volleyball players? Even ones that were on winning teams? 

He had been curious enough to ask. Their answers bounced in his mind. 

Bokuto’s promise that he would be hooked on volleyball if he just managed to feel the power of defeating an opponent; Akaashi’s determined and precise sets that never faltered, even with doubt; and Kuroo’s steady instruction that had been perfected with age and experience, his love for the sport evident in each jump, block, and spike he performed. 

It clicked. Sometimes, you tried for the sake of trying. For the sake of getting back up again, even if you failed. Even if you weren’t the best one on the court. Even if that shrimp Hinata was better than you. And sometimes you had to try just so Tadashi would smile at you, with his shy, proud smile that was only reserved for the most special of occasions. So Kei had tried. He had tried because he loved that smile.

So yeah, now Kei is on the floor of a locker room in Tokyo, absolutely freaking out because he had just found renewal in something he had despised for so long because he’s in-fucking-love with Tadashi’s smile. Shit. 

.*.

It’s a break from school - they’re about to start their second years, they’re sixteen, seventeen around the corner, when Tadashi knocks on his window. 

It’s a common occurrence, something Tadashi will do when he needs to escape from his parents or he can’t solve a homework problem that’s been bugging him or he’s craving chocolate and he knows that Kei’s mom always has a stash in their house. Kei never fails to walk unceremoniously to the window and draw back the curtains. He slowly lifts open the window, taking in as much of Tadashi’s face as he can in the shadows of the moonlight. It’s likely not another tense night with his parents, because Tadashi doesn’t look upset. In fact, he looks excited. 

“Tsukki,” he says once the window is open. Kei starts the process of taking the screen out so Tadashi can climb through his window. “There’s a meteor shower,” he says reverently, and Kei pauses. “Wanna watch it with me?” 

Scientifically, it’s very cool. Even though they happen fairly often, is there really anything cooler than watching actual meteors blaze through the sky? But Kei doesn’t agree because of the scientific implications. He agrees because that look in Tadashi’s eyes is pure, infectious joy. Who is he to say no to a little more joy in his life?

So tonight it’s Kei who’s clamoring through the window, trying not to wake his parents. He doesn’t know how Tadashi does it so gracefully. He swipes a blanket on the way out and spreads it on the grass in the middle of his yard, because as they grew older Tadashi developed an allergy to grass. He knows his friend won’t complain, but he’ll have itchy red bumps on his skin from where the grass touched it for a day or so. 

They both lie down on the blanket like they did as kids, their heads right next to each other and their bodies in opposing directions. Kei can hear Tadashi’s breathing, his little gasps when a white meteor streak breaks through the dark sky.

“It looks like someone’s taking a paintbrush and streaking it across the sky,” Tadashi murmurs. His voice is warm cinnamon and a gentle breeze. 

“The perfect painting,” Kei says back. Tadashi hums. 

It feels different, tonight. Their rapport is more gentle the later the night gets. Tadashi brushes his knuckles against Kei’s like a dare. Kei returns the favor by intertwining their fingers, inviting Tadashi to say something or pull his hand away. He doesn’t. 

“Do you see that one?” Tadashi points at the sky with his unoccupied hand, and Kei follows the direction of his finger. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at, but he hums in agreement because he likes it when Tadashi starts telling him about the stars. He had been ignorant to their beauty for so long, and he has a lot to catch up on when it comes to them. “That star is the middle of Orion’s Belt. You can see the other two, right? They’re also called the three kings or sisters. The stars are named Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. I’ve always liked them, you know? Each star is almost an entire light year away from the other, but they don’t let it bother them. They’ve been together for an eternity, and they’ll be together for a hundred more.”

Kei has long gotten used to the way Tadashi speaks about stars as if they’re sentient beings. It’s sort of charming. 

“Look,” Kei says, pointing. Another batch of meteors rain down through the sky. 

“Make a wish, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, and there’s an obvious smile in his voice. His fingers grip Kei’s a little more tightly. 

“Tell me more about the stars, Tadashi,” Kei says. His fingers twitch at the use of his name, but Tadashi launches into his impromptu lesson.

“Meteor showers are behind the phenomena of ‘shooting stars.’ They happen when a comet that’s orbiting the sun sheds it debris. If the debris falls close enough to Earth, we get a meteor shower.”

“Why do they streak like that?” Kei asks.

“It’s an effect of the earth’s atmosphere vaporizing the debris,” Tadashi chuckles. “Pretty cool, huh?” Kei makes a noise of approval. “The gravitational pull of a star is enormous,” Tadashi continues. “Our sun is the corpse of a star and yet it still manages to have eight planets and thousands of comets and moons orbiting it.”

Kei can believe that one. He sees the gravitational pull every day in Tadashi - how he draws in even the most cold of planets, Neptune, rendering it helpless with his smile. Hinata might be a sun, but Tadashi is a star, holding together an entire galaxy a million light years away. 

“What did you wish for?” He asks quietly, after it becomes clear that Tadashi isn’t going to talk about the stars anymore. They might be older now, but Tadashi never fails to wish on the comet debris that burns up in the earth’s atmosphere (somehow, that is definitely not as charming as saying ‘shooting star’). He waits one minute, two, for his friend’s answer. It’s worth the wait when he grips Kei’s fingers like they’re his only lifeline.

“An eternity.”

.*.

Their second year is in full swing and their days are full of volleyball. They have quite a few new promising first-years, including a libero, a few wing spikers, and a setter. Ennoshita lives up to his role of captain, immediately initiating practices for their upcoming qualifiers. Despite the bang that the school year starts with, schoolwork has yet to catch up to the intensity of volleyball and Kei and Tadashi find themselves with free time that they haven’t had in a long time. So it becomes their new tradition: every Saturday after morning practice they take the bus to town where they share milkshakes and fries at the American burger joint that resides there. 

Kei loves it. Loves the way Tadashi’s face lights up when their usual booth in the corner isn’t occupied, loves the waitress who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, loves the malt balls that get stuck in the straw as they try to suck up their milkshakes. 

After one particularly difficult practice, he and Tadashi arrive at the burger place to be greeted by the same unenthusiastic waitress. Tadashi always grins widely at her, and she just rolls her eyes and hands them menus even though she knows they don’t need them. They sit at their booth as Tadashi hmms and hawws over the menu. 

“Quit that,” Kei says. “You already know what you’re getting.”

“But what if they change the menu?” 

They always have this conversation, and it always goes the same way. 

“I’ll take a vanilla milkshake with no whipped cream, a large plate of fries, and a lemon soda!” Tadashi orders his regular.

“I’d like a strawberry milkshake and a large plate of fries,” Kei says his usual order. From experience, Kei knows that it’ll take exactly twenty minutes for their orders to come out, so he slips out of his side of the booth and slides next to Tadashi. 

“Tsukki?”

“Here,” he fishes his earbuds, unused in the face of his Somy headphones, from his backpack and offers one to Tadashi as he clicks the jack into his phone. He doesn’t realize that he handed Tadashi the right earbud until he realizes that their heads have to press together to accommodate the length of the cord. Oh well. “I found a song last night that I think you’ll like,” he says.

It’s true: the second he heard it he knew that Tadashi would love it, because his friend is a dork who adores violin in contemporary songs. This one has a great violin solo at the beginning and a smooth rhythm to keep it going. His eyes carefully stay trained on Tadashi’s face as they listen. The messy-haired boy’s own eyes are closed, which is how Kei knows that he likes the song. He’s teased Tadashi mercilessly about it, but the other boy always claims that he can focus on the song more when his eyes are closed. By the end of it, he’s trying to hum along. 

“Add it to our playlist!” He says once it’s finished. Kei complies. Since they were kids, they’ve shared a playlist on their favorite streaming platform. They can add or remove songs as they please, and Kei revels in the fact that Tadashi still uses the playlist as much as he does. It’s one of those things that he wishes he had other friends for so he could rub it in their faces: _Tadashi still listens to our playlist of 6 years and counting! Bet he doesn’t do that with you._

With other people, Tadashi talks about relationships and families and favorite things. With Kei, he talks about hopes and dreams and insecurities and the stars. Kei definitely gets the better end of the deal. 

The waitress comes back with their food not long after Kei goes back to his side of the booth and Tadashi immediately lays out a napkin in between the two of them on the table. Kei absent-mindedly picks up his fries and dips them in his milkshake. If the fry is too soggy, he places it on the right side of the napkin. On the other side of the table, Tadashi is doing the same with his non-soggy fries. Kei will honestly never understand why Tadashi loves the limp, wiggly fries the most, but he doesn’t question it, never has, because Tadashi always lets him have his firm fries in return. 

Kei is dipping four fries into his milkshake when he hears the familiar _click._ He scowls and looks up, where Tadashi is smiling sheepishly from behind his polaroid. “Sorry Tsukki!” He says, not sounding very sorry at all. “Just needed photographic evidence that you’re super gross.” 

Kei scoffs. This is a long-running argument. “Fries are meant to be dipped in soft ice cream. Why else would they have a special on the combo?” Kei points to the poster on the wall, near the front door of the restaurant, that advertises a few hundred yen off of your order when you get a milkshake with your fries. 

“Because they want people to spend more money! It’s a marketing ploy!” Tadashi sighs with an over exaggeration only seen in those who are long-suffering. “Also, I’m not so much mad about the fries in ice cream as I am about fries in _strawberry ice cream._ You’re out of your damn mind.” 

“You don’t have room to talk, mister mushy fries,” Kei flings a soggy fry at his friend, who catches it in his mouth and cheers. 

“Did you see that!?” Tadashi is grinning as he munches the fry. Kei just smiles and shakes his head. 

“Will you show me more songs on the bus?” Tadashi asks. 

Kei can feel his hands get sweaty, but Tadashi doesn’t notice. His friend is giving him an excuse to sit close to him on the bus, their bodies pressed together in front of dozens of people as they hunch over his phone and listen to his music, whispering like lovers as they discuss melodies and overplayed chord progressions. 

“Of course,” he says, instead of freaking out. Tadashi can never know how weak he makes Kei. It might scare him away, and at this point Kei doesn’t think he could survive a day without Tadashi. 

.*.

“Another shot?” Kinoshita, of all people, holds out a stack of plastic shot glasses and a half-full bottle of something Kei doesn’t want to know the name of, and can’t because its label has been ripped off. He hands glasses to the second years and they take them diligently. Hinata looks anxious but tentatively excited, Kageyama stares at the shot glass as if it’s offended him, and Yamaguchi is bouncing up and down, a few beers in him already from him and Kei’s private pregame (thanks, Akiteru!). 

“Shots!!” Noya pops up from behind them, a bottle of sake in hand. Kinoshita has a special talent regarding filling shot glasses because when Kei turns back to his glass it’s almost overflowing. 

“To the second years!! Can’t believe you guys finally showed up!” Noya laughs loudly and Kei has to take a quick step forward to avoid his shot from getting spilled by the libero’s stray elbow. 

They take the shot, Kei wincing as it goes down. Hinata’s practically choking on the burning liquid, and Noya just laughs too loudly and thumps him on the back. Nishinoya has been inviting them to his “Super Cool Awesome Epic” parties since they first joined the team, but they had all declined -- multiple times -- at Suga’s insistence. But now they’re second years, and when Tadashi had looked at Kei with interest in his eyes after Noya invited them, once again, to one of his “bangers,” Kei couldn't say no. And it’s not like he’s never been to a party before. He just really doesn’t feel the need to be around his drunk teammates. 

“Maybe mixed drinks from now on,” Ennoshita enters the kitchen, handing them all red plastic cups full of some kind of liquid. Kei takes it gratefully.

“Captain Ennoshita to the rescue yet again!” Tanaka appears from out of nowhere, pushing forcefully through two random party-goers to get to his kouhais. He takes a special interest in Hinata, who is already looking affected by the shots. “As your vice captain, I’m officially going to add more lemonade to your drink.” Tanaka pours his cup into Hinata’s and then stumbles away. 

Ennoshita immediately confiscates it. “Don’t drink that,” he scolds, handing his own cup to Hinata instead. Kei watches with interest as Ennoshita sips Tanaka’s creation and reflexively gags. “Don’t drink _anything_ Tanaka gives you,” he glares at the second-years, as if they’re going to actively seek out Tanaka’s bartending skills after seeing the horrified face of their senpai. 

“No problems there,” Kei grumbles.

“Hey Tsukki, I think I saw some chips in the living room?” Tadashi grabs his wrist and pulls him along, and he gladly lets himself be taken to wherever Tadashi deems appropriate. He follows his friend all the way through the living room until he abruptly stops in a darkened corner that’s abandoned by other party-goers. 

“I don’t think there are chips here,” Kei says slowly.

Tadashi grins sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. It was getting a bit crowded in there, don’t you think? I couldn’t stand in that kitchen much longer.” Kei agrees, and he’s appreciative that Tadashi dragged them here. 

“Let’s sit,” Kei suggests, sliding down the wall with his cup cradled in both hands. Tadashi mirrors him, and they take full advantage of the corner by tangling their long legs together, their backs pressed against adjacent walls. 

Tadashi’s face is flushed from the alcohol, and he giggles a lot more when Kei makes a snide comment about a random person they see at the party. Sober, Kei wouldn’t think about it, but a little tipsy, he realizes that the only reason he's making the comments is to see the way Tadashi’s nose scrunches when he closes his eyes and giggles. He loves the crinkle that appears there, loves the crookedness of his smile. God, he just loves Tadashi. 

It’s a thought that comes easily, as easily as the knowledge that the earth spins on its axis or his mother will always cut his sandwiches in half diagonally instead of vertically. He loves Tadashi. He’s known it for a while, and has been unable to run from it for even longer. It’s one of those things that appeared so slowly that he can’t pinpoint when he started loving him - he just knows that he maybe always has. 

“Tsukki, why are you smiling?” Tadashi’s smile is lazy and his cup tilts dangerously in his hand.

“I’m drunk,” Kei says as an excuse, and Tadashi giggles.

“Same.”

So he sits on the Nishinoya’s living room floor, staring into his best friend’s eyes, and desperately hoping that one day he’ll have the courage to tell him that the reason he’s smiling is because he’s there with Tadashi. 

.*.

“Tsukki?” Tadashi gently knocks on his bedroom door and opens it, sliding in before closing it again. 

Kei is sitting in the middle of his bed, the lights in his room off and his knees drawn up to his chest. Tadashi doesn’t turn on the main lights, just pads to his bed and pulls the chain on his bedside lamp to illuminate the room in a soft glow. Kei wants to greet his friend, wants to tell him that he’s fine, and that he didn’t need to bother himself and come over, but right now his limbs feel like lead and his mouth feels like it’s full of cement, chunky and revolting and holding his jaw clenched and painful. 

Tadashi sits next to him on his bed, careful not to touch him. The atmosphere in his bedroom is incredibly sombre, and he feels sorry that he can’t change it. Maybe tomorrow. 

“Tsukki, it might help to talk about it. Your mom said you haven’t left your room all day. You’re not sick, are you?” He makes an aborted hand movement, as if to reach out to press his hand against Kei’s forehead, but then withdraws it. Kei shakes his head slowly. 

“I missed you at school today,” Tadashi continues. “I had to eat lunch with Hinata and Kageyama. Which, honestly? I get why you never let us eat lunch with them. They fought the whole time, and then it turned into a competition over who could eat their lunch faster. And then Kageyama started choking on a piece of chicken and Hinata tried to give him the heimlich which was kind of funny because he had no idea what he was doing.” It’s like Tadashi knows exactly what he needs. Just hearing the familiar voice of his friend, the cadence of his voice as he tells a story, ties him back to the present. 

“And at practice I thought Ennoshita and Tanaka were going to kill each other! They were having a dispute over what drills we should do since you weren’t there and we couldn’t do blocking like we were supposed to. Or, I guess we could’ve, but it wouldn’t have been the same. And you know how Ennoshita usually looks really sleepy? Well, when Tanaka started arguing with them his eyes opened really wide. It was terrifying. Do you think that’s a superpower you gain when you become captain? The ability to get really scary so everyone listens to you? I think that would be kind of cool.”

Tadashi is silent for a few minutes, maybe lost in thought, probably just giving Kei some extra time to get himself together. “Will you tell me about it?” 

Kei tries to swallow around all of the cement in his mouth. His phone is silent from where it sits on his desk across the room, and he feels sick just thinking about it. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them, only to find Tadashi still watching him worriedly and his phone still sitting silently. “I’m scared,” he croaks, the first thing he’s said in a while.

“Why?” Tadashi asks. He’s always so patient and kind. Kei’s emotional bank fills up for the day. 

“Because Akiteru told me he wants to die,” he chokes out, voice cracking. 

“Oh, Kei,” Tadashi says, and that does it. Tears are sliding down his cheeks before he can even think to stop them, the weight of Akiteru’s confession heavy on his chest and mind. He can’t even be embarrassed by his tears because he has a goddamn good reason to cry: his brother is in pain, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Why didn’t he say something sooner? Why...why does he feel that way? Does he think I don’t love him? That I won’t miss him?” The dam in Kei breaks and the questions rush out like flowing water. They’ve been drowning him all day. 

“No, not at all,” now Tadashi cradles Kei’s face in his hands, pushing his glasses up into his hair so that he can properly wipe Kei’s tears with his thumbs. More replace the ones he cleared up, but Tadashi doesn’t seem deterred as he continues wiping them away. “It’s no one’s fault, Tsukki. Sometimes people are just sad.” 

Kei hiccups, choking on a silent sob. “I don’t know what to do,” his voice comes out as a whisper. All he can hear is the deadness in Akiteru’s usually life-filled voice as he spoke over the phone: _“I don’t know, Kei. Sometimes I feel like I want to die.”_

“We’ll get him help, okay?” Tadashi says comfortingly. “We’ll tell your parents and get him help and he’ll be okay.”

“He’s just so far away,” Kei hiccups again. “I...I wish I could see him.” 

“He has a holiday soon, right? Don’t worry, Tsukki,” Tadashi is holding him now, letting Kei cry into his chest. It’s a feat in itself that Tadashi has managed to finagle Kei onto his lap at all, let alone is still able to stroke his back comfortingly without both of them falling off the bed. Kei’s wetting his friend’s shirt with snot and tears, but Tadashi just continues to comfort him. “And if you don’t want to wait that long, we can take the train to Tokyo this weekend, okay? He’ll be alright. We’ll make sure of it.”

.*.

Kei is sitting on one side of the bed, Tadashi on the other, as they slave over their studies in Tadashi’s room. They’ve always been good at studying together: they usually sit in a companionable silence, ask questions when needed (Kei always needs help with calculus and Tadashi always asks him about English translations), and keep each other honest whenever Tadashi starts looking mournfully at his DS or Kei stares off into space for too long. 

Today, though, Kei can tell that something is bothering Tadashi. His friend is still studying, but there’s a stiffness to his movements, a tic in his left leg. Kei has known Tadashi for too long, because this is the kind of shit he notices now. 

Finally Tadashi can’t take it anymore. “We’re going to be third years, Tsukki,” he blurts, eyes trained steadily on his homework. 

Kei blinks once. “Yes?” He asks slowly. “That’s kind of how it works. Once you finish second year, you go to third year.”

Tadashi still looks tense. “Everything changes after that,” he says quietly. Oh. They’re going to have this conversation now. Kei thought they’d be able to hold out for another few months, but apparently it’s giving his friend some anxiety. “It’ll be the first time that we’ll be apart.”

“What will be?” 

“University,” Tadashi says. “We’re both planning on going, but the odds of us going to the same one….”

Kei gets it. He really does. Tadashi is more into marketing and technology while Kei is interested in history and archaeology. They’d probably end up attending different universities so that their academic needs could be met. He sighs. “Yamaguchi. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But we still have our last year, right?”

Tadashi’s upset face isn’t budging. “I guess.”

“So let’s enjoy it. You’re going to be captain. And I’ll be right behind you as your vice. We’ll lead our team to victory, have a great last year, and then visit each other at our different universities.”

Tadashi looks up at that. “You’d really come and visit me, Tsukki?”

Kei scoffs. “Of course. I can’t let you go too long without being called out on your bulllshit.” That makes a wide smile grace Tadashi’s face as he returns to his studying, and Kei realizes that Tadashi wasn’t worried about them going to different universities, he was worried about Kei leaving and forgetting about him. That’s something he can never do, but of course Tadashi wouldn’t know that if Kei has never told him. 

His mouth runs dry at the thought. Telling him. Letting Tadashi know that he has never, once, cared for another person like he cares for him. The thought makes his heart race, but he isn’t sure it’s a bad thing. He thinks about it for a moment, rolling the idea around in his mind. No, it would definitely be bad. What if Tadashi reacted negatively? Then their third year would be spent apart. Kei doubts that Tadashi would let it ruin their friendship, but their time together would always be tainted by his confession until they inevitably grew so far apart that they never spoke again.

Kei holds in a loud sigh of frustration, his eyes wandering as he tries to get the thought of confessing out of his mind. It’s a stupid idea, one he shouldn’t entertain any longer. 

He makes the mistake of looking at the wall of polaroids. Not only does Tadashi love taking pictures, but he also loves displaying them. He has an entire wall in his room dedicated to his documentation of life. Kei has never really understood it, but whenever Tadashi talks about adding a photo to the wall, his eyes light up in a way that makes him wish he understood. 

There are so many memories on the wall. The first day Tadashi got the camera, when he brought it to school and insisted that he try out different angles and light settings on Kei during lunch. Their middle school talent show, when they had gone to support a classmate who was really bad at singing. A vacation Tadashi’s family went on, riding bikes with Kei, having a picnic that Akiteru set up. Pictures of Kei with a french fry halfway to his mouth, with a glare on his glasses, with a small smirk on his face. Pictures of Tadashi grinning as wide as he can as he roped Kei into taking one more picture with him. 

All of these are on display for anyone to see. And Kei realizes that there are a ridiculous amount of photos of himself on the wall. An unprecedented amount. And for the first time, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s lucky enough that Tadashi reciprocates his feelings. 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi warns. “You’ve been staring too long, get back to your book.”

Kei turns his eyes to his friend, who looks startled by the intensity in them. “What?” Tadashi asks.

“Your wall of photos,” Kei offers. “I...didn’t realize there were so many of us.” He unfolds his legs and stands, walking over to it to get a better look. His fingers ghost over a picture where Tadashi smushed their faces together before taking it. 

“Oh. Well, yeah,” Tadashi follows him, and now they’re standing mere inches apart, side-by-side. “I take pictures of my life, and you’re an important part of it.” Kei’s eyes follow Tadashi’s line of sight to the picture that Noya took on the bus, the two of them slumped over each other in sleep. Faced with every memory that reminds him why he loves Tadashi, Kei feels an overwhelming need to tell him. If he doesn’t confess right now, he’s never going to do it. This moment is too precious. 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “If I tell you something,” he starts, his voice miraculously steady, “will you promise to forgive me?” 

Tadashi turns to look at him, worry in his eyes. “What? Tsukki, you can tell me anything. No forgiveness needed.” His expression is soft, like he might know what’s next, but he patiently waits for Kei to get it out himself. Tadashi has always done this, has always known what he’s going to say before he says it. He just hopes that this time, he wants to hear what Kei is going to say. 

“Yamaguchi,” he says, voice cracking. No, that’s not right. He tries again. “Tadashi. I….” Fuck. Fuck! He knew this would happen because it always happens. His throat closes anxiously around the words he wants - _needs -_ to get out and he closes his eyes to compose himself and he knows that when he opens them he’ll be met with Tadashi’s confused ones. 

But he feels a gentle hand on his cheek and he opens his eyes and -- ah, he should have known. This is Tadashi. The one person who gives him everything and asks for nothing in return. The one person who understands every feeling, every insecurity, and every hesitation that Kei has ever had. He doesn’t know why he was so worried. Tadashi has always known what he’s meant, even when his words have failed him. Now is no exception. 

“I know, Tsukki,” he says, soft and sweet and perfect, melting all of Kei’s fears. Tadashi makes him fearless. He always has. 

“I love you,” he says anyways. He can’t let Tadashi’s bravery waste away inside of him.

And Tadashi, who is made of the same materials as stars, reaches up to kiss him. 

He’ll never forget the stars again.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I played a lot of Gauntlet as a kid? And yes, the OG version (revamped for Gamecube). 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! This is my first Tsukkiyama fic and I ADORED writing it, so I hope you liked it too! Please feel free to leave comments and kudos - I respond to all comments! xx


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